Healing
by Ismira Daugene
Summary: Battered and bruised from an attack, Sarah calls out to the only being she can think of who would help her.


**Healing**

**by: Ismira Daugene**

Sarah slowly turned onto her stomach and trembling, rose to her hands and knees. She ached… everywhere, but there was a sharp stabbing pain in her side that she was pretty sure was a broken rib or two. Carefully, she settled herself down so she was sitting upright, leaning against the wall behind her. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep calming breaths, but it hurt her side too much. Grimacing, she rose unsteadily to her feet, balancing herself with a hand against the wall.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in this much pain. The sharp stabs from her side; the aching soon-to-be purple bruises on her face, arms, and legs; the dull throb from the cut on her head and her split lip; all these seemed to melt together into one large pain that consumed her body. Her head started to spin as she straightened, and she decided that sitting back down might be beneficial.

Slowly, she sunk back down to rest against the wall again. She reached into her pocket to fish out her cell phone only to find it had been broken in the attack. Cursing, she set it down, unable to work up the strength to throw it across the alley like she wanted to.

As she sat, Sarah's mind unwillingly flashed back to how she'd gotten here. She'd been walking home from her job at a local restaurant where she was a short order cook. She was walking down the sidewalk towards her apartment only eight blocks away when she saw him. He was standing in the recess of a doorway as though just waiting for the rain to stop. His muscular arms were crossed, folded across his thick barrel chest covered by a black leather jacket. His eyes were just as she remembered, cold chips of ice. The moment she saw him, she stopped dead in her tracks. Thoughts raced through her mind. _How did he find me? _ _Should I run for it? Will he see me if I just turn around right now? Has he already seen me?_ The last question was answered when his head turned in her direction, a grim smile spreading across his face. Shaking, she made ready to run, but found herself firmly rooted to the spot. "Sarah… it's been too long," his deep voice said as he pushed off the door to approach her.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I want you to come home," he stopped a couple feet in front of her.

"I left for a reason, Jason."

"Oh come on babe. You know I never mean it and I swear I won't do it anymore."

Sarah managed to take a step back. "Jason, I won't be your punching bag."

"I told you I'll stop! I promise! Now come one babe, lets go home before it gets dark."

"No."

"Sarah…" he said in a monotone.

"No, Jason."

"Don't make me angry, Sarah. I know I said I'll stop, but you're pushing your luck here," he moved toward her.

Sarah took another step back. "No."

His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Before she could react, he'd reached out and grabbed her, pulling her towards the alleyway she currently sat in.

Sarah grimaced and decided not to replay the beating she'd taken. It was bad enough knowing that he knew where to find her. She was never going to get away from him; he had contacts and always seemed to find her. Groaning with a mixture of depression, pain, and nausea, Sarah drew her legs up and rested her still bleeding head on her knees. Her shoulders began to shake and heave as she cried out her frustration. "I… I wish," she sniffled. "I wish the Goblin King would take me away… right now," she whispered into her knees.

A light breeze blew down the alley and Sarah heard a cat yowl and hiss. She looked up to see a man standing before her, and gazed at his white blond hair that seemed to defy gravity and floated gently down in varying lengths just past his shoulders. His face was all angles inset with two gleaming blue eyes. It was sharply defined and matched the rest of his body in its lean smoothness. He wore the same outfit she remembered from twenty years ago, the dark goblin leather jerkin, the skintight dark leggings, the leather boots and gloves, and the cape that floated down and seemed to be made from a combination of cloth and black glitter. "You… you came," she stuttered.

"You had but to ask," he whispered, kneeling down to her level.

"But… all this time…. you never…"

"I needed you to call for me. I could not come on my own. The rules of my world prevented it," he spoke slowly as though to make sure she understood. He raised a gloved hand and used the back of his fingers to caress her cheek. "Why didn't you call me sooner, Sarah? I could have prevented all this." There was a look of pain in his eyes as he said the last part.

"I… I didn't think you'd come. I thought you hated me."

His eyebrows shot up, but he quickly resumed a more neutral look. "Does the flower hate the sun, though it scorches it through the dry late days of summer? No, it needs it to survive, just as I've needed you. I cannot hate what gives me life."

"What? But…"

He put a finger over her mouth, gently shushing her. "Come, love, we'll get you fixed up," he said as he carefully scooped her up into his arms.

Sarah's eyes widened and she gasped as he was raised, only realizing too late that it would hurt her ribs. She grimaced and cringed, burying her face in Jareth's shoulder as a stabbing pain filled her senses. "Shh, shh… hang on, love. I'll fix it soon."

Sarah felt a whirling sensation as though she was in the middle of a miniature tornado for a few seconds. When she looked up, she found herself in a less than familiar room. Stone walls, ceiling and floor where covered with tapestries and thick carpets. A ten-foot tall open window let her see a bright blue sky outside and let in copious amounts of light. The bedchamber looked fit to house a king; she then looked at the man carrying her and reminded herself that it probably did.

Jareth moved towards the bed and gently set Sarah down on its velvet coverlet. She sunk into the warm softness and let out a breath, grimacing again when her ribs stabbed at her. "Lets fix that shall we?" Jareth said taking off his gloves.

Sarah wasn't sure what he was going to do, but whatever it was she couldn't have done anything about it. She lay in a daze, simply staring at the ethereal being before her. She suddenly felt his cool fingers on her skin, sliding up under her shirt to come to rest on her broken ribs. She hissed at the pain. He didn't apply any pressure, but a gradually increasing warmth seemed to be emanating from his hand and with it, the pain was slowly decreasing.

After a minute, he removed his hand and Sarah took a deep, pain-free breath. Next his hand moved to rest on her head, covering the cut above her brow. The same warmth spread throughout and after another minute he removed his hand. He held her gaze as his hand then moved to her split lip. His thumb slowly moved over it, tracing her lip until the cut was healed. "Does that feel better?" he asked.

She nodded mutely, noticing that bags had formed under his eyes and he looked extremely tired. "Are you okay?"

"A little drained. Healing you so soon after transporting us here took a lot of energy. Your bruises will have to wait for a little while," he said sitting on the side of the bed beside her.

She nodded again, still in shock that he'd actually come for her and had brought her back to his castle, not to mention healed her. "Jareth?"

He didn't answer. "Jareth?" she said his name again a little louder.

He still didn't answer. She sat up and leaned around him to see that his eyes were closed and he was breathing deep regular breaths. Her eyes widened as she realized that he'd fallen asleep sitting up. Unsure what to do for a moment; she looked around at the splendor that was his room. Rich tapestries covered the walls, thick cushy rugs lay on the floor, dark walnut furniture was scattered about. She glanced back at the Goblin King; her mind made up, and slowly tipped him sideways so he was laying on the bed next her, his head resting on the pillow. When he hit the bed, he grumbled slightly and turned so he was facing her; his arm came to rest on her waist. She gently placed a hand on his chest and felt her eyes inching closed. With a yawn, she gave in and shut her eyes, quickly falling asleep to the slow rhythmic breathing of the man beside her.

**o O o O o O o**

This was just a short one-shot that popped into my head at what time? That's right, the time right when I was going to sleep… *grumbles at the plot bunnies*

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed and will leave a review.

_Labyrinth_ (c) Henson, Froud, and Lucas


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